I have tried several times to get this story published on Doppler Press so that Big Closet could benefit from any sale it might enjoy but seemingly I am having no luck at all getting doppler press to respond to my endeavours to put the book on their website.

Sadly therefore this novel, which is the follow on from Mindful one will just have to be posted here on Big Closet, Top Shelf.

My apologies to Big Closet and their hard-working staff for any lost sales they might have suffered but I feel I have to post it now or it will forever be lost to those few readers that profess to enjoy my work. I'm now seventy three now and the future looks bleak.

Sorry folks, but here goes nothing.

PS. The novel ends up with Iona euthenising herself to escape from her persuers so be warned. Minddful, Two. Chapter 1

Mindful Book 2Chapter 1

Restart.

Emma had wrestled since dawn with the spectral fog and her inadequate attempts to capture it on her canvas. She always found it difficult to transcribe the ghostly atmosphere of the early sea mists but this morning her brushes seemed to have a mind of their own. Sometimes, when her mood and the conditions were right, she could produce a winning picture that was quickly snapped up from the local gallery. Today however the oily sea and blurring mist destroyed any hope of a horizon and an essential perspective. Frustrated with the elements she flung down her brushes and stalked angrily towards the shoreline.

The grey waves slid eerily out of the mist then heaped up like charging elephants before destroying themselves in a thunderous welter of violence amidst the rocks and sand. Sadly, the restless booming of the surf was lost on Emma. She was totally deaf. She had been since she was ten years of age when a hereditary condition had destroyed her ear drums. Slowly throughout her early teens, she was precipitated into the lonely world of deafness. She could remember sounds but now they were forever lost to her. Her deafness was incurable.

The views of the Big Sur however, compensated slightly for her loss. The majestic scenes were always changing while the wild elemental forces were sucked in by her remaining senses of sight, touch and smell to feed the spirituality that gave life to her pictures. Having concluded that the mist was soon to lift, she settled on a huge freshly washed-up log and waited for the early morning sun to burn off some of the mist. When the mist was partially cleared she might get the painting exactly as she wanted it.

Her idle imagination turned the log into a sea monster with countless tentacles. With sight and touch, she explored its roots for potential carvings whilst her smell and taste savoured the resinous aromas where the bark had been newly stripped by the surf.
The log must have been tossed ashore by the previous evening’s tide for the pine scent was refreshingly strong and the log had yet to be bleached and aged by sun and salt.

She settled comfortably in the fork of the log to wait. Here on the isolated beach she could escape her frustrating deafness. No rushing crowds or blaring traffic demanding her extra attention; just the sea, the rocks, the forests and the sky. Here in silence, her remaining senses were free to span their full spectrums.

She picked up a rare flat pebble and flung it as far as she could. If you could get it beyond the breakers then it might skip quite far over the oily swells. Normally her gentle female shoulders couldn’t throw beyond the breakers but her frustrations lent added strength to this particular effort. The pebble skimmed off the second breaker and curled like a boomerang towards the big rock. She followed its graceful arcing flight until it struck the brooding basalt mass with a sharp click. Emma jerked with surprise.

‘She had distinctly sensed a noise!’

She shook her head nervously and strained her useless ears but nothing came. Then she cursed silently for despite her deafness, she still knew what noise was.

Occasionally an infuriating tinnitus entered her head, reminding her of her cruel loss and usually accompanied by a disabling headache. This noise however was nothing like tinnitus. The sharp click had been quite clear and precise.
She had never had a sensation like it since her teen years and in the lonely morning mist it was an eerie experience.

Curiosity overcame her fear and she paddled into the swirling shallows behind the rock to recover the strange stone. Her efforts proved fruitless for the stone had submerged beneath the sand. She gave a soft grunt of disappointment.

From the fog a breaker slammed against the other side of the rock. Emma watched it as she had watched thousands of big waves until it crashed into her brain with a deafening roar. The sudden invasion of her brain caused her to momentarily stare with shock while clasping her hands to her useless ears.
The raw force of the new sensation caused her to stagger backwards into the rippling shallows just as the dying breaker surged around the rock and saturated her bleached jeans. She gaped mesmerised at the quicksilver foam as the sucking and eddying sounds mimicked what she was seeing.

‘There was no doubt about it! The sounds inside her head exactly complemented the waves.’

She stuck her fingers tight into her ears but still the sounds persisted.

Emma now became petrified with fear. She staggered to her feet as the next elephantine wave crashed against the rock and tossed white tusks of cold spray whipping through her flimsy summer blouse. The sheer volume and variety of sounds overwhelmed her senses and she let out an incoherent shriek of terror before stumbling towards her easel.

As she frantically gathered her things another sound entered her tortured brain. This sound though was much more haunting and terrifying, it was a voice!

“Help me!”

Emma let out a wail and crouched down in terror as she scanned desperately around the beach. There was nothing in sight yet the ghostly sound repeated itself inside her tortured brain.

“Help me!”

What terrified Emma was that she could somehow understand the message. She recognised the long-forgotten timbre of a human voice and she also realised by the pleading tone that the owner was in trouble. She banged her useless ears again then dug sharp fingernails into her ear-holes until she actually drew blood. Suddenly a hazy image drifted into her brain and she screwed her eyes tightly shut in a frenzied attempt to drive the hallucination away. Despite her desperation the sounds and the images persisted until she collapsed sobbing on the sand.
“I’m going mad.” She concluded.

“No. You’re quite sane. I’m behind the big rock. Please help me.”

Emma gaped at the ‘talking rock’ then raised her hands to reply before cursing her stupidity at trying to sign to a rock.

‘For God’s sake pull yourself together girl. There must be some explanation!’

“There is. I’m trapped behind the rock. Help me I’m dying.”

For a final moment Emma stared at the rock before the ‘sound’ made sense and the truth crashed into her brain.

‘There was somebody or ‘something’- trapped behind the rock.’

With this realisation came a more frightening one.

‘Whatever it was, it was somehow trying to communicate directly into her mind. No- not trying, for God’s sake - it was succeeding! It had read her thoughts!’

She sat rooted to the sand unable to decide whether to run or look behind the rock. Once again she pressed her head between her knees and thumped her ears in a confused effort to clear her mind. The sounds continued irresistibly.

“I won’t harm you. I’m stuck in the rock. My leg is jammed and it’s broken.”

This time a clear image flashed vividly into her brain.

It was a small body lying exhausted amongst the rocks trapped by a branch jamming its leg into a fissure. The meaning of the sounds became abundantly clear for the creature was an unearthly shade of blue.

“Who are you? What are you?” She signed with totally automatic finger work.
“You don’t have to sign unless it makes you feel comfortable. I can read your mind. I know you’re frightened but there’s no need. I won’t harm you.”

When the creature ‘spoke’ appropriate images entered Emma's mind clearly and slowly. As though the creature was talking to a lesser being. Emma’s thoughts turned to aliens.

“Are you human?” She demanded, as tales of alien abductions invaded her mind.

“Yes of course I’m human! For God’s sake help me! I’m in agony and the tide is rising. I’ll drown if I can’t get free from this crevice.”

“Who are you then?”

As she spoke an extra-large wave thundered against the rock and she sensed an agonising shock of pain in the creature’s mind as the surging water lifted its frail body and cruelly twisted the broken limb. Whatever it was or whoever it was, it was clearly telling the truth for the wave surged around the rock and sprayed Emma with its spent force. A dull groan accompanied the pain and although she felt no physical pain herself she could certainly sense it in the creature. Her sharp wits were slowly recovering and she began to think coherently.

‘If the creature could transmit pain it could certainly hurt her.’

The voice returned again, pleading for help.

“I wouldn’t hurt you. I sense you’ve got enough pain with your deafness.”

Emma gasped and shuddered inwardly. ‘The creature could definitely read her innermost thoughts.’ Nervous tension tingled down her spine.

Another wave crashed against the rock followed by the stabbing sensation of pain in her mind. Emma finally capitulated to the creature’s plea and climbed nervously onto the rock to avoid the waves.

She approached the other side of the rock slowly, ready to bolt like a rabbit at the first inkling of danger. Below her, but just above the watermark she spotted a childlike form crumpled amongst the rocks. Beside it was a broken branch clearly pinning the creature’s limb. Emma still couldn’t bring herself to think of it as human.

She peered cautiously around the horizon one last time searching for she knew not what, then she tackled the situation below.

She knew the tide was rising and the creature was definitely in danger of being drowned. It had not lied since its appearance in her brain and this finally made up her mind. She would try and help it. She found a stout branch and carefully climbed down to release the creature. As she worked with the branch to free the log she realised the creature was possibly human; a very small human but probably a large human child. Its deceptive bluish hue was caused by the cold.

The clothes were shredded by the waves and the grey face was etched with deep lines of pain. Emma could clearly see the smashed leg with exposed bone and horrendous lacerations. Even her crude medical knowledge could tell it was a very serious break and the bleeding needed urgent attention.. With her branch as a lever she finally managed to eject the log from the fissure and slowly lift the child – (for it clearly was human), - clear of the rock. The child gave a low moan and shuddered with shock as Emma struggled to drag it above the pounding waves.

She moved its bag then placed her hands under its armpits and started to pull until the body slid upwards with surprising ease. The child gripped its bag with desperate tenacity and through the torn blouse Emma determined its gender. The child was female for they were definitely breasts. As she looked closer she realised it wasn’t a child but a young woman or more probably an adolescent girl..

Having determined enough to conclude the being was not a danger, Emma set to lifting her clear.

‘Hell, she’s light!’ Thought Emma as she slipped backwards with unexpected ease.
“Oh! Ow! My bloody leg!” Howled the girl/woman as she slumped between Emma’s knees. Emma was shocked, frightened and yet pleased that this being could both talk and transmit her feelings.

Another wave slammed the rock and doused the pair with a force that lent added urgency to Emma’s efforts. Still shocked by the girl’s lack of weight she hoisted her clear and tottered back to her easel.

“Wait here.” Gasped Emma telepathically. “I’ll fetch the pickup.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I see you’ve stopped signing.”

Emma blinked as she suddenly realised her hands were not flashing away with signs.

‘My God! You’re right. What are you?”

“Please go and get the truck. I need a doctor.”

Emma was already sprinting up to her cabin set back upon a small rocky promontory amongst the trees. She returned and quickly hoisted the injured girl into the passenger seat before collecting her easel and paint. At the cabin she wrapped her in a blanket and placed her on some cushions by the stove. The girl was already unconscious and Emma realised she had little time. She put her by the stove to get warm whilst she prepared a bed in the back of the pickup. When she returned the girl’s, breathing was shallow and the leg had started to bleed again. Emma began to panic and started up the track to the town. After an eternity of bumping the injured girl was nearly at the end of her tether. Emma stopped at her friend Jacky’s cabin and tooted the horn urgently.

Jacky emerged and summed up the situation quickly.

“I’ll phone the doctor then I’ll follow you after I’ve finished here.” She signed as Emma gunned the engine and resumed her dash for help.

The doctor met her at the top of the track and swiftly stopped the bleeding before they dashed to the hospital. The injured girl was now deep in shock and Emma was left to fret outside the emergency room as they treated her.

Eventually the doctor emerged and wrote his words down for her convenience.

“He’ll live. He’s a young pre-op a transsexual. Do you know who he is?”

Emma tensed uncertainly. Fortunately, she had a very sharp, quick-thinking mind and her deafness gave her time to hide her shock. She had no idea who or what the transsexual was except that it was a telepath who had already brought Emma some amazing pleasure and convenience. Whoever or whatever this person was, Emma was saying nothing until she had learned more about its telepathy. A gift like telepathy was just too damned useful to a deaf girl. If the child couldn’t be identified she would adopt it. Carefully she scribbled a few brief words to hide her confusion.

“He’s from back east. I met him in the village. Bit of a strange one but very interested in art.”

“Very strange.” Wrote the doctor. “You should be careful who you befriend Emma.

This one’s a pre-op transsexual. There’s no knowing what sort of underlying problems there might be. He could be dangerous.”

“Well he doesn’t look dangerous,” wrote Emma, “there’s nothing of him. Besides, he’s more girl than boy; and a pretty feeble girl at that.”
“Yes. I suppose so. Well we’ll have to keep him in for observation for a few days. I’m afraid that’s going to cost you.”

Emma shrugged. Money worries would take a back seat if this girl – boy, was prepared to share with her the secrets of telepathy.”

Suddenly Emma remembered the bag in her pickup and she slipped away to double-check.
‘Hell!’ Thought Emma as she read the passport. The kid was a foreigner; a Brit named `IONA’ and if the passport was right he wasn’t a child. He was more than a girl!
He was a woman!’

Emma became confused as the questions flooded her mind. ‘Was she an illegal immigrant, if so what the hell was she doing up here? Why the hell was her passport listed as girl when the doctor said she was a boy? What the hell was going on?’

Brits didn’t usually enter illegally so should she tell the police? How the hell did a young British transsexual end up on the Oregon coast?’ Could she have come down from Canada or fallen overboard off a yacht?

In the waterproof box there was also a small locked section that was clearly meant to dissuade inspection. Emma hid it until later. If this girl, boy, woman, transsexual- whatever, was an illegal alien, the box and the telepathy warranted much more investigation. She hadn’t noticed a key or anything around the alien’s neck but then she hadn’t looked that closely.

She looked up to find her friend Jacky arriving and they quickly started signing away. Emma decided to lie a little to protect the alien until she knew more. She told Jacky and the doctor that he was a recent friend, a transsexual from back east. He had gone out walking then slipped and fallen down onto the rocks by the shore. He had been missing for nearly a day before she found him. She signed that the boy called himself Iona and lived as a girl. The doctor shrugged disinterestedly. He knew that Emma was a famous eccentric bohemian whose pictures were sought after the length of the West Coast. She was also very successful so money for treatment shouldn’t be a problem.

‘If Emma chose to have weird friends stay with her it was no concern of his. Provided the bill was paid he was content to treat the patient and respect confidences.’

After a few weeks Iona was out of danger and fit to leave hospital. Emma was forced to consider the cost of treatment. If her insurance wouldn’t cover it she was going to be stuck with the bill. She stayed at Jacky’s to be near Iona until she was fit to leave the hospital.. Once the Brit was mobile Emma took Iona back to her cabin after promising to sort the bill later. The doctor knew Emma was good for credit because her paintings were so successful. ‘Deaf Emma’ was something of a local celebrity.

Emma stopped at Jacky’s cabin on the way home to let her know she was back. Jacky acted as a sort of gatekeeper for the single track down to Emma’s cabin. A pretty but deaf mute was hopelessly vulnerable to unwanted visitors. She resumed her journey slowly down the track and Iona eventually ‘connected ‘again telepathically. It was the first time since the doctor had treated her and Emma felt the thrill of anticipation.

“Jacky’s worried about you.” ‘Whispered Iona.’

“I don’t need telepathy to tell me that. She’s always watched out for me. By the way what’s your second name. I don’t even know you.”

“Yes you do. You’ve looked in my passport.”

Emma cursed as she realised it was hopeless lying.

“OK then, I’ll keep calling you Iona. Can you read all my thoughts?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“There’s no need to apologise. It must be marvellous.”

Iona sighed wearily.

‘It was no use trying to contradict her. Emma would never understand.’

“It’s not all a bed of roses. I read the bad stuff along with the good. Don’t worry though, I’ve read a lot worse than that.”

Emma crimsoned with embarrassed shock.

“You mean-.”
“Yes. All your thoughts including those.”

“Shit!”

“And that one as well.” She sighed. “Don’t worry, I’m well inured to them by now.”

“This is going to get complicated.” Emma frowned.

“Not very complicated. I’m usually switched off. It drains my batteries.”

For a fleeting instant Emma thought Iona meant she was an android then she realised she was talking figuratively. She turned to look at Iona but realised she had fallen asleep. She seemed to sleep a lot and Emma put it down to ‘drained batteries. Glad to have a free mind she compiled a list of questions for when they got back to the cabin.

Iona woke with a grunt as the pickup bounced over the rough bed of the stream. The pain creased her face and Emma pointed to the painkillers in the glove box.

Iona wagged her finger in a ‘no-no’ sign and Emma studied her curiously. A feint wave of disappointment fricasseed through her body, as she wondered why Iona hadn’t used telepathy. Then she realised she knew zilch about telepathy.

Iona struggled painfully out of the pickup and drank in the view before casting her arm panoramically and making an ‘OK’ sign with finger and thumb. Emma nodded and tapped her temple inquisitively. Iona waggled her hand and gave a ‘sleeping’ sign to indicate she was too tired. Emma helped her into the cabin and sat her down before unloading the pickup. When she had finished Iona hobbled onto the porch with some coffee. Emma dug out some cookies and they settled on the porch as Emma signed that she wanted Iona to use telepathy.

‘Iona’ frowned and made another ‘sleeping’ sign to indicate she was still tired and wanted a bed. Emma ignored her and Iona was forced to use telepathy just to make herself understood.
“I’m exhausted. The hospital diet was normal but I eat much more. Food keeps my batteries charged.”

“There’s plenty of food in the larder. Just say and I’ll cook you something.”

“OK then, please, a full mixed grill.”

“What’s that?” Queried Emma unaccustomed to British figures of speech.

“Bacon, sausages, eggs, beans, black pudding, liver mushrooms, tomatoes, the works.”

“What sort of a meal is that? I thought you’d like a steak or something.”

“That as well if you’ve got it.”

“This is America. We’ve always got steak.”

“OK then whatever you’ve got. I’m easy but lots of it.”

Emma took this as something of a challenge and pushed the boat out a bit as she raided her larder. No bloody foreigner, especially a runty little Brit, was going to embarrass a ‘good ol’ American country girl’s cooking. As Iona polished off the plate Emma compared Iona’s undernourished frame with her diet.

“You look half starved.”

Iona shrugged as she hobbled to the sink and washed her dish then searched for a plate rack. Emma took it and placed it in the cupboard then fixed up some blueberry pie. Iona demolished this with equal alacrity.

“If you eat like that you’ll strip me clean. Where have you come from?”

It was the first direct question Emma had asked and the first time Iona appeared reluctant to answer.
“It doesn’t matter where I’ve come from, it’s where I’m going that matters. I’ll be off your hands as soon as this leg’s better.”

“That’ll take months. There’s food costs and a little matter of the medical bills.”

“That’s no problem. I’ll settle up as soon as I get to Seattle. There’s money waiting for me.”

“So who are you and what d’ you do for a living?”

“It doesn’t matter who I am. Thanks for helping me. I’ll put you right as soon as possible. You won’t be out of pocket and I’ll be out of your hair before you know it.”

Emma felt a cold shiver at the idea of her leaving. Iona’s telepathy had become too dammed vital. Iona sensed Emma’s fears and changed the subject. She didn’t want to get stuck in that groove.

“Your cabin’s in a lovely spot, so sheltered yet so near the sea.”

“Yes it’s the inspiration for my art.”

“Much success?”

“You should know. You’re the telepath.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t reading your mind then. I know how irritating it is.”

“But you were communicating by thought.”

“Yes I know,” Iona replied patiently, “but I don’t read minds as a matter of course. That takes additional energy and I don’t do it to my friends unless they want me to. It’s rude to invade someone’s privacy uninvited.”

“So I’m your friend now, am I? I’m not sure I want a transsexual as a friend, people might talk.”

“You saved my life. I owe you my friendship. If you don’t want it I’ll get out of your life as soon as I can. I’m a transvestite, not a transsexual. Not that it makes much difference to most people. I don’t make friends easily but you did save my life.”

“So it takes that much to become your friend. You’re right, you don’t make friends easily do you?”

“I can’t win can I? I have to trust people before I reveal my true gender. You saw what happened in the hospital. They were more interested in my transvestism than my broken leg. I’d rather not talk about it right now. Where d’ you want me to sleep? I can tell you’re nervous.”

“There’s a spare bunk in the outhouse across the clearing,” replied Emma, “my guests usually sleep there in the summer. It’s not cold.”

“Thanks. I’m feeling really tired again. Can I go to bed now?”

“It’s only six o’clock, but if you must.”

Iona hobbled to the cabin and examined the bunk then telepathed across.

“I’ll need a blanket I think.”

Emma savoured the strange experience of ‘talking’ across such a large distance then queried Iona about it.

“I’ll bring you one along in a minute. How far can your telepathy reach?”

“I transmit about a mile and I can receive nearly three miles but it’s still developing.”

“You mean there’s more?”
“Yeah, lots.”

“Tell me.”

Iona did not reply and Emma frowned irritably as she folded the blankets then crossed the clearing. She studied Iona asleep on the bare sheet then wagged her head in bemusement, and gently draped the blankets over her before creeping away. That evening she locked her own front door for the first time in years.
The following day Emma woke Iona at noon for she had slept nearly eighteen hours round. Iona ate a huge meal and Emma frowned thoughtfully as she contemplated the food bill.

“I’m not abusing your hospitality.” Reassured Iona. “When I get to the bank in Seattle I’ll put you right.”

“Yeah but for now you’re eating me out of house and home. That’s three days’ worth of food you’ve just packed away.”

Iona felt a guilty twinge and resolved to make for the city before the end of the week. She helped wash the dishes then followed Emma into her studio where she stored her art materials. An unfinished picture caught Iona’s eye.

“D’ you know anything about art?” Asked Emma over her shoulder.

“No. I’ve never studied it.”

“I suppose you’re a scientist or something with that telepathy.”

“I’m nothing. I never finished college, in fact, I never ever went to college.”

“Are you going to tell me about yourself.”

“You won’t be happy until you’ve found out. And I suppose if I owe you my life, then I owe you my story.”
“It would be nice and I’m going to have to know a lot more about this telepathy before I’m comfortable with you. Is there any way I can close my mind off to you?”

“Not to my knowledge.” Iona replied absently as she studied the picture.

The casual way she responded made Emma realise Iona had been telepathic a long time.

“Most of my life.” Iona replied then instantly apologised as she sensed Emma’s annoyance at having her mind read.

“Sorry about that. We were still communicating and I didn’t think.”

“Apologies accepted. Who else knows about your telepathy?”

“Only you and a couple of others back home.”

“Who? Your mum and dad?”

“No. I never really had a father and my mother died in a car crash.”

“Oh I’m sorry. How did it happen?”

“It’s a long story. We’d best sit on the porch.”

With satisfaction writ large on her face Emma settled on the porch swing and patted the seat beside her. Iona declined her offer and settled on the boards with her splinted leg stuck out in front.

For the rest of the afternoon Iona talked but left out large chunks about the violence and deaths in her life. If she was seeking a new start, the bad stuff was best left untold. It seemed that everybody around her ended up dead or endangered. Death seemed to follow her like an angry shadow.
‘This Emma was too sweet and innocent to be tainted by that side of her past so the sooner she moved out of Emma’s life the better.’

As the sun set Emma sighed wearily and after another huge meal Iona hobbled to the outhouse and slept again until the following noon. Emma decided that the routine suited her needs perfectly. She could work at her paintings in the mornings and late evenings when the summer light was at its kindest. Iona could entertain her during the long summer afternoons.

After a week her supplies ran out and she was forced to visit the town. Iona accompanied her and phoned the bank in Seattle. As expected, there were documents to sign so she asked Emma to run her to the bus station.

“I’ll drive you to Seattle if you wish. The trip would be a break.”

“It’s a long way. Are you sure?” Queried Iona.

“If it means you can sort out my medical bills, yes.”

Iona shrugged her shoulders and Emma left a note for Jacky at the store. The following morning they arrived in Seattle and Emma accompanied her into the bank.

Emma was watching Iona signing papers and the manager fawning around her when the robbers burst through the door.

Iona quickly hit the floor as gunshots exploded and the robbers screamed at everybody to get down. Emma’s deafness made her slower and her tardiness attracted their attention. One of the gang seized her roughly and held the barrel of his gun to her head as the others swept up everything they could find. A security guard tried to move and was promptly butchered as the drug-crazed gang screamed obscenities at anything that looked like moving.

Iona was scanning frantically but their drug induced frenzy made it hard to get much sense from the robber’s minds. Her unfamiliarity with guns also left her helpless for even if she did disarm one she had no idea how to use a gun. The robbers waved machine pistols and Iona started scanning everybody’s mind in a desperate effort to find a person who knew how the dammed things worked.

Eventually she located a Vietnam veteran spread-eagled behind a large counter and she managed to catch his eye. An intense scan revealed that the man realised he was in position to overpower one of the robbers but he couldn’t be certain what would happen to the girl who was a hostage. Iona glanced significantly towards the robber holding Emma and nodded imperceptibly towards the veteran who quickly got the gist of the plan. He would disable the lookout whilst Iona would distract the hostage taker. By the time the other three robbers emerged from the vault the veteran hoped to have them cornered. It was a desperate plan.

Iona read the veteran’s mind and they rose as one. Each robber tried to warn his crony and subsequently lost the initiative as they were simultaneously attacked from behind. Iona used a telepathic punch to cripple her adversary and simultaneously faked a karate chop to disguise the real destruction.

The veteran however got into trouble owing to his distance from his target. The robber had squirmed free and was just bringing up his machine pistol as Iona saw the danger.

With no time to spare she released a telepathic thunderbolt that blasted every mind in the bank foyer. Its force slammed robbers and customers alike and everybody collapsed en masse. Iona hobbled around the floor snatching up the two guns to confront the vault raiders. She tried one gun and made a deafening line of holes in the ceiling as a stupid look of surprise crossed her face.

‘It was too bloody easy!’ She thought as she cautiously handed the other gun to the dazed recovering veteran.

“Jee’ze girl! D’ you know how to handle those things?”

Iona wagged her head and gaped stupidly as the adrenaline subsided

“No I haven’t a clue. Here, you’d better have both of them.”

“Don’t worry kid. It’s on fully automatic. Just point it at the door to the vault. They’ve got to come out sooner or later.”

“Don’t leave me!”

“I’m not. I’m going behind that pillar to get a spread of fire and pin them down. What the hell did you do?”
“What d’ you mean?”

“How the hell did you knock everybody down?”

“I didn’t.” Lied Iona.

“Well what disabled them?” Look they’re only beginning to recover.”

“Hell I dunn’o. Lookout! I saw something behind the vault door.”

Even as Iona spoke the same movement caught the veteran’s eye. With well-practised skill he released a short warning burst to the robbers inside the vault.

Iona felt a tap on her shoulder and her finger tightened involuntarily. She loosed off two accidental rounds into the woodwork before recovering her cool. Tensely she turned to face a terrified bank teller.

“Christ! Don’t do that. I’m edgy enough as it is.” Squeaked Iona.

“Let me get to the counter.” Urged the teller. “I can contact the police.”

“Hell I’d have thought the bloody noise would have warned them. Be my guest. Just watch the bloody bullets.”
“If the police come in here with guns blazing they’ll shoot anybody holding a gun. It’d be best if we can tell them what’s happening.” Emphasised the teller.

Iona’s face paled as she grasped the teller’s meaning.

“Get on that bloody phone quickly.”

The teller crawled behind the counter, picked up the phone and within minutes a posse of police arrived to take charge. The veteran explained the situation and pulled out his sheriff’s badge as Iona crept away to join a terrified Emma vomiting in the car park.

Iona wanted to disappear but the veteran corralled her and recognised Emma as the deaf artist. He tapped her shoulder and slowly mouthed his question as he signed crudely.

“Hey! Emma! What brings you to the big city?”

Emma turned and smiled her recognition then turned helplessly to Iona for translation. Iona panicked for a moment then telepathed her warning to Emma.

“I’ll pretend to sign. Nobody’s to know I’m telepathic.”

Emma nodded and signed her answer as Iona read her mind. Iona responded with some vague phoney hand signs and turned to the veteran to talk normally as she smiled to garnish friendship..

“I’ll translate if you want, Emma’s lip reading has deteriorated from lack of use and your signing’s pathetic.”

The sheriff smiled and wagged his head.

“Living in that isolated cabin I suppose. She should get out more.”

“Who are you anyway?” Asked Iona as she extended a belated hand of friendship.
“Peter McCormack. I’m Emma’s local sheriff. I sometimes go berry picking near her cabin in the fall. I’ve met her and her friend Jacky a few times on the beach. I’ve even had coffee with them at Emma’s cabin. Who are you?”

“Iona, a friend of hers. I’ve been staying in her outhouse and we came to Seattle on business.”

“Oh yes. Her friend Jacky mentioned you. Broke your leg didn’t you.”

“Yes. Stupid of me, I fell onto some rocks.”

“How is it?”

“Well as you can see. It’s still in plaster. It’s stopped hurting though.”

“You did bloody well back there in fact you were quite remarkable considering that leg. The city police lieutenant wants a statement off you.”

“Do I have to? There were enough witnesses.”

“Yeah but you’re the hero. And you did let off a gun. Best go and speak to them now before the bloody press arrive.”

Iona cursed silently then returned to give her statement and complete the paperwork at the bank. With her brave action and the huge sums involved she was made most welcome and inevitably somebody mentioned her name to the press. When she emerged again she was confronted with a barrage of cameras and questions. The damage was done. She searched desperately for Emma and saw Pete the sheriff guarding her from another crowd of pressmen. Somehow they had discovered Iona’s connection to Emma. In the confusion outside the bank all she could hear was pressmen calling her name. ‘Miss Evans! Miss Evans?’ Eventually Pete arrived and waved his badge authoritatively to rescue her.
“The police will give you a statement. This lady is recovering from shock and exhaustion and I’m taking her to the hospital to be checked out. You can see she’s carrying a previous injury.”

Iona was about to protest but quickly recognised Pete’s tactic to get them away. She made a play of her broken leg and limped away to Pete’s four by four. She saw Emma already gunning the engine of her pickup in readiness to follow and they finally escaped the mayhem. Once out of town they stopped at a diner and Pete queried Iona’s actions again in the bank.

“What did you do back there.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Protested Iona defensively.

“I want to know. You were the only one left standing after that deafening, thumping shock thing. It left everybody stunned so I reckon you had something to do with it. That punch you gave the robber didn’t carry any weight in it either. Are you some sort of martial arts exponent?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Persisted Iona. “I saw you sizing things up so I decided to follow your example.”

“And disabled a hardened bank robber with a tickle on the neck. Then the other guy who’s got the drop on me suddenly collapses in front of me and everything goes black for a few seconds.” Emphasised Pete disbelievingly.

“I had to do something. Emma was being held hostage.”

“Is she special to you?”

Iona suddenly felt nervous. A quick scan revealed that Pete had previously made passes at Emma but she had rejected them on the grounds she was deaf. Apparently Emma was afraid her children might be deaf so marriage and children was out of the question.
“I asked is she special to you?”

“Wha! What! N- No. I sleep in the outhouse. I’ll be gone when this bloody leg’s better.”

“Where are you from? Emma’s never mentioned having a British friend.”

Fortunately Emma had returned with some extra coffees and Iona opened up her telepathy. They would have to get their stories right so as she spoke to Pete, she telepathed her words simultaneously to Emma.

“I- I met Emma recently. I liked her art and bought a picture. After I complimented her on some excellent stuff she invited me down to look at the rest of her work. I was thinking of buying some more pictures. Emma wants her work to be recognised more widely abroad. That’s what the business at the bank was about. I was sorting out some foreign exchange. I’m from Britain but I’ve been living in New York.”

The last part clinched it. Before the robbery Pete had seen Iona busy with some papers and spotted Emma standing at her side. Pete was about to say hello to Emma when the robbers had burst in.

The whole story sounded plausible and Pete never thought to check Iona’s passport. Iona realised she would have to sneak into Canada and get a proper entry visa before any other inquiries were made.

They finally returned to Emma’s small town and Iona was able to settle up all the outstanding bills. The next day the headlines broke and Iona cursed as Jacky came bouncing down the track waving the papers from her cab.

Iona studied the lurid accounts and sank into depression.

‘Greenhorn Brit girl saves the day! Never used gun before!’ Blah, blah, blah.

“What happened?” Signed Jacky.
Emma’s hands flashed away as she related the story and Jacky’s jaw sagged. She turned to Iona demanding an account but Iona waved her hand dismissively trying to avoid the issue.

“I think she’s embarrassed at being the hero.” Signed Emma.

Iona had little time for telepathy. She was glumly thinking of the consequences.

‘If British intelligence were still looking, this would do her untold harm. Perhaps America had been a wrong choice after all.’

The girls studied Iona’s narrow back as she stared absently out of the doorway and they exchanged uncomprehending glances.

“Surely she would be pleased to get a reward for there was bound to be one.” Signed Jacky curiously.

“I don’t think the money bothers her.” Replied Emma. “She’s pretty well strapped from what I could gather at the bank. The papers I saw carried lots of noughts and the manager was poncing about like a pratt. Grovelling and smarming like she was some sort of royalty.”

“Is she rich then?” Flashed Jacky.

“I’m sure she is. The bank staff started fawning and scraping when she opened that box. They don’t usually do that to foreigners.”

“What’s in the box?”

Emma shrugged and signed the words.

“Papers. That’s all, just papers.”

“Have you seen them?” Pressed Jacky.
“Only a couple as she put them on the desk. It was like Chinese writing.”

“D’ you think she’s a spy?”

“Who for; China? With those eyes and natural platinum blond hair; she doesn’t look very Chinese does she?”

“You can never tell. Maybe she’s a disaffected Brit.” Suggested Jacky.

Emma remembered Iona’s account of her childhood and suddenly became suspicious.

‘Maybe Iona did bear a grudge against her old country.’

She had nothing to thank them for. One thing Emma did know was that America and Britain had been allied a long time. If Iona was working for China she was no friend of America. Emma glanced at the Iona’s back as she continued staring unconcernedly towards the sea then she motioned silently to Jacky as she picked up a knife. Jacky followed her lead for she was quite a tall strong girl and Iona’s size was no threat.

Deep in thought about where to go next, Iona felt a soft tap on her shoulder. She turned despondently to find two knives at her throat. The shock turned her face grey and she tripped backwards over the doorstep to strike her head against a heavy stone flowerpot on the porch.

The girls cursed as the blood trickled from her scalp.

“She’s out like a light.” Cursed Jacky. “Still. It’ll give us a chance to look in that box. Look, there’s her key. It’s buried down that cleavage pinned inside her bra.”

Emma removed the key from Iona’s bra and they trotted over to the outhouse. They opened the box and Jacky quickly scanned the papers. She worked as a partner in a firm of accountants and she let out a curse as she realised the writing was Japanese. As realisation spread across her face she signed her discovery to Emma.

“She’s got accounts in a Tokyo bank. Look, these headings are in English and Japanese. Christ just look at this! She’s no spy; she’s as rich as bloody Croesus!”
Emma studied the figures and smacked her hand to her forehead to demonstrate her stupidity. They swiftly closed the box and rushed back to check on the unconscious Iona. When they got there she was gone.

“Shit! Where is she now?” Signed Emma agitatedly.

“She’s probably done a runner.” Grinned Jacky.” I would with two mad knife-wielding women after me.”

“She won’t be far with that leg.”

The dull click of a cocked shotgun suddenly made Jacky’s blood run cold as Iona appeared from the kitchen.

Slowly the girls raised their hands as they recognised her nervousness and remembered her incompetence with guns. Iona was doubly nervous because the blow had disabled her telepathy. Until that returned she was keeping the girls under guard so she said nothing and just motioned the gun barrel to make them sit.

Emma glanced significantly at Iona then tried to make a telepathic connection. She failed miserably and slumped disappointedly as Jacky exchanged a questioning frown. Angrily Iona waved the heavy barrel to silence them. Until she could read their minds she was desperately vulnerable. The girls cowered on the seats.

Jacky glared at Iona furiously as the heavy gun wobbled menacingly in her hands.

“That bloody thing ’ll go off if you’re not careful.”

Iona just stared silently. If she spoke, Jacky might have to sign to Emma and there was a danger they might hatch a plan. Without her telepathy, Iona would not know what they were planning. While she had the two of them under the barrels of the gun she felt secure. She edged towards the table and settled on a kitchen chair with the gun resting across table. Then she eased her throbbing leg and felt her bleeding scalp wound. The lump was already swelling and she winced at its tenderness. Her blouse was already a gory mess and the odd droplet of blood was staining the wooden floor.

“That needs attention.” Observed Jacky trying to ease the tension.

Iona remained silent and glanced towards the threatening barrels as she reached to the kitchen roll and took a generous helping of tissue. As she nursed her head the first inklings of telepathy returned so she settled in the chair.

She had never consciously measured its recovery before so he glanced at the clock to time it. Eventually she completed scanning their minds and relaxed as she pointed the gun through the door and gingerly extracted the shells. She decided to avoid telepathy to spite Emma.

“Why didn’t you trust me?” She asked Jacky but already knowing the answer.

“We thought you were a spy. Emma saw the foreign writing on your papers.”

“And?”

“We wanted to make sure. We didn’t expect you to slip and fall.”

Iona sighed inwardly at the girl’s inherent parochialism. Neither of them had ever been abroad, in fact neither of them even had passports. She wagged her head as the girls stood up nervously then she hobbled over to the sink and started washing her injured scalp. Emma tried to help but Iona turned away dispiritedly and she felt a stab of pain at her rejection. Iona spoke again to Jacky.

“Tell her I’ll be leaving as soon as I’m able and I’ll settle up the bill. I’ve no doubt you poked through my papers. You’ll have seen that they’re all in order.”

“This isn’t a bloody hotel. She helped you out of the goodness of her heart.”

“And I paid her handsomely for it.”
“Is that all you’re interested in; paying your way? She saved your life.”

“And I saved hers!”

“Where!”

“At the bloody bank. She was being held hostage; they’d already killed the guard.”

Jacky pulled up short for she had not completely read the whole story. She turned and signed furiously to Emma who nodded dumbly but refused to sign a reply. Her actions served to exaggerate her muteness and Jacky became frustrated by her friend’s intransigence. She turned to Iona again but she waved a dismissive hand and hobbled painfully across the clearing to the outhouse. There she collected her meagre belongings and started painfully along the track.

Emma suddenly realised what was happening and signed frantically to the swifter more athletic Jacky who quickly chased after Iona.

“Where the hell d’ you think you’re going?”

“Away. I won’t be a bother to you anymore. I’ll wire the money.”

“Emma wants you to stay.”

“Oh I’ll bet she does.”

Jacky missed the irony completely.

“No. Honestly, she desperately wants you to stay.”

Iona wagged her head and pressed on determinedly while Jacky returned to the cabin. After some more frantic signing they leapt into Jacky’s pickup and bounced after Iona. She hadn’t got far and they found her sitting on a log massaging her thigh.

“Get in. You’ll get nowhere with that leg and no crutches.” Ordered Jacky.

Iona ignored them and looked away.

“Look! It’s bloody miles to my cabin and miles more to the road. This is big country and there’s bears in those woods.”

“Bullshit!” Snapped Iona and hobbled angrily off as the girls watched frustratedly.

“She’ll kill herself if she tries to reach the road.” Signed Emma desperately.

“So Let her bloody well kill herself.”

“I didn’t save her just to let her die.”

“So what’s so important about her? A runty little British dwarf.”

“She’s not a dwarf!” Signed Emma angrily.

Jacky grinned as she studied the hobbling form.

“Well, she’s a bloody elf or pixie or something. Just look at the skinny little SOB.”

Emma thumped angrily on the dash to stop the RV and then she flung the door open before the skid had stopped. Jacky watched as her friend scampered after the Brit and tugged at Iona’s arm. She lost her balance and slipped in the mud as Emma continued remonstrating by hand signs.

“Why won’t you use that telepathy thing?”

Iona’s ankle was hurting like hell and she cursed as she crawled on all fours to another rock beside the track.
“Fuck you! You stupid Bitch.” She snarled audibly, more for Jacky’s benefit. Emma however clearly read his expression. She wavered nervously for a second then thumped the rock angrily.

“I’m not letting you go. I need you!”

Iona turned away to stare up the track as she sneered.

“I’d rather die here than trust you again.”

Emma sensed victory. Iona had used telepathy again.

“You’ve got a broken leg, a split scalp, a sprained ankle and it’s getting dark. You will die if you don’t come with us.”

Iona fell silent again. She was in a real jam and without their help she probably would die. She cursed the whole damned mess and thumped the rock in frustration.

“Just take me to the bloody road. I’ll hitch a lift or something to Seattle.”

“You can’t travel like that. Nobody’ll give you a lift with blood all over your blouse. Come back to my cabin.”

“Not bloody likely.”

“It’s my cabin or nothing.”

Suddenly the horn tooted as Jacky stared uncomprehendingly at the pair. Both Emma and Iona suddenly realised they must have cut a peculiar figure exchanging expressions and mannerisms without apparently moving their lips. To cover their blunder Emma suddenly started signing but realised she was compounding the error. To try and hide the mistake she made a few meaningless passes with her embarrassed hands. Angrily she shook her inarticulate fingers and cursed as she motioned Jacky to come forward. The truck lurched forward and Iona reluctantly clambered in.
“What the hell was going on just then?” Demanded Jacky.

“Nothing, just take me to the highway.” Snapped Iona as she crudely signed her wish.

“No. We’re going back to my cabin!” Signed Emma.

Jacky agreed with her friend Emma and they reversed until they found a turning space. Iona couldn’t escape she was jammed between them. When they arrived at the cabin Iona stayed moodily silent and sat in the cab until Emma produced her crutches then she shuffled painfully to the outhouse and slumped on the bed. They left her alone throughout the night but Jacky agreed to stay with Emma in case anything untoward happened. The following morning her ankle was better and she asked Jacky to take her into town.

“I’ve got to get away from here. It’s doing my head in.”

“Were will you go?” Demanded Jacky.

“Seattle. Like I said yesterday. I’ll wire you some money.”

“Emma doesn’t want you to go. What is it with you?”

“Nothing. She must be lonely or summat'. Maybe she should find herself a good man or something.”

Iona sensed Jacky go tense and a brief scan explained her attitude. Jacky had stronger feelings for Emma than simple friendship. Iona wasn’t surprised or annoyed. Of all the human conditions she had encountered, homosexuality was the least likely to bother her. On Iona’s personal Richter scale of antipathies it rated a big fat zero. After a brutal childhood of terror and depravity in care homes and lunatic asylums, homosexuality was no more unusual to Iona than discovering that the sky was blue or rain was wet.

Iona clumped awkwardly onto the porch and another brief scan ascertained that Emma was completely unaware of Jacky’s affections. She shrugged disinterestedly and squeezed into the gap by the stove as Emma plonked a huge breakfast in front of her.

Jacky gaped at the heaped plate.

“Good God! You’re not going to eat all that!”

“What I eat ’s my own business. I pay her for it.”

As Iona spoke, she also telepathed her thoughts for Emma’s benefit but Jacky hadn’t signed her original words so Emma was surprised by Iona’s sudden telepathic announcement. She turned to stare at him then she glanced at Jacky and ordered her to sign.

Jacky stared at her before realising that Emma had had her back to her as she spoke to Iona. There was no way Emma could have known that she and Iona were talking. Iona realised she had made a stupid mistake. She had never worked with a deaf person before and there were a thousand pitfalls to avoid if she wanted to keep her telepathy a secret. She glanced significantly at Emma and ‘told’ her that she was ‘closing down’. Jacky could act as an interpreter between them. Emma frowned impatiently and tapped her temple demandingly. Jacky watched the interplay as curiosity then incomprehension clouded her face. She had never seen or understood what ‘tapping the temple meant’.

“What’s with it between you two? What does this mean? -She tapped her temple-. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Emma’s throwing a wobbly.” Mumbled Iona with her mouth full.

At these muffled remarks Emma exploded in anger and slammed the hot pan down on the stove. The splashed oil ignited and the next moment a fireball engulfed the pan. Emma squealed with fear and Iona struggled to extricate herself from behind the table. Only Jacky showed any presence of mind by soaking a towel under the tap.
She calmly draped it over the burning pan until the flames subsided then turned to confront the pair again.

“Right! I’ve had it with you two. What the hell’s going on?”

Iona maintained a stubborn silence whilst Emma nursed the burn on her wrist. Jacky’s question went unanswered. It wasn’t forgotten though and Jacky stored it up in her memory to tackle Emma at a suitable time. Iona shuffled off to the outhouse to sulk all day and Jacky left for work on Monday. During her Monday lunch break she met Pete the sheriff and discussed the bank robbery.

Pete mentioned the peculiar events and his suspicions about Iona. Fortunately Jacky kept her silence but was slowly putting two and two together. Pete’s story, Emma’s obsessive possessiveness about Iona, and her own experiences of the strange tense silences between the pair set Jacky thinking.

‘There was more to this Iona than met the eye.’

During that week, Emma explored the world of telepathy and with each new discovery her needs and possessiveness increased. Distance, accuracy, and emotion were all factors that lent themselves so readily to Iona’s gift but the biggest by far was intimacy. This reached a climax on the Wednesday. Emma had expressed her fears about Iona’s unearthly ability to dig as deep as she wished into her mind and her subsequent suspicion about Iona’s intentions. To regain Emma’s trust Iona finally allowed her into her mind and she laid bare huge areas of her psyche. Some doors however remained firmly closed and Iona explained why.

“There’s stuff in there Emma that you don’t want to see. Stuff I came across in the hospitals as a child, what I saw, what they did to me.

It’s all seriously sick stuff and about seriously sick people like criminals, murderers and paedophiles. It would only frighten you and resurrecting it would hurt me. It’s best you don’t see it.”
Despite these restrictions Emma still found herself in a vast field of new experiences and after drinking her fill she reluctantly left Iona’s mind as weariness overtook her in the small hours. As Emma yawned Iona stood to go but Emma tugged at her blouse possessively.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“I think it’s best. It would complicate things.”

“What would?”

“What you’re thinking.”

“Dammit! Is nothing sacred?” She cursed. “You’re really a man aren’t you? You said you were heterosexual.

“Yes. And I’ve heard those words before.”

“Where?”

“Back home in the old country.”

“Did you have a girlfriend there?”

“Once. A million years ago.”
“What did she think about you? How did she handle your telepathy? What did she think about your transvestism?”

“She didn’t mind the transvestism. She was an abused victim as well and she didn’t like men. She accepted me as I am, tits and all. She didn’t know about the telepathy.”

“What! You didn’t tell her?”
“No. I had to keep things simple. Telepathy was new to me then and I was still feeling my way.”

“So you knew everything she was thinking but she had no idea. That was a bit cruel wasn’t it?”

“On the contrary. It was the kindest thing I could do. She was a child patient in the same hospital as me and she had all sorts of problems, childhood abuse and stuff.

If she knew that I could read her mind she would have cracked up. Our relationship was more a support thing than a love affair.”

“Have you got a picture of her?”

“There’s no need to be jealous. She had far more problems than you. She had been raped systematically as a child and her whole life was one big foul-up. She was a prostitute the last time I heard.”

Iona had lied about Sandra’s final life choice to prevent any more inquisition.
Emma flinched at Iona’s penetrating accuracy then scolded herself for her own self-pity. Ever since the onset of her deafness, Iona had reckoned deafness to be the worst of disabilities because it cut you off from people but now she had learned that a damaged mind was far worse.

Iona’s telepathy at least had taught her that. Deafness made it difficult to communicate. Insanity made it impossible to relate.

“I’d still like to see a picture of her.”

“I haven’t got one. If I was caught they would easily recognise her and they might take her kid.”

“Kid?”

“Damn! I wasn’t thinking. Her child: - our child. I wasn’t going to tell you that.”

“Because I was thinking of asking you for one?” Finished Emma.

“It wouldn’t work,” protested Iona, “children need fathers and I can never stay around.”

“Is her ‘kid’ telepathic like you?”

“Yes.”

“So if I had your child, it could be telepathic too.”

“And then it wouldn’t matter if it was deaf.” Finished Iona.

Emma stared guiltily at the floor. ‘There was no escaping Iona’s telepathic reach.’

Iona felt sorry for Emma.

“I don’t blame you,” soothed Iona. “Every mother wants the best for their child.”

“It’s only natural. My deafness is hereditary so I daren’t risk an ordinary relationship.

It’s not fair to inflict it on a child knowingly. Anyway you’ve said how lonely it is being a telepath. Wouldn’t you want a brother or sister for your other child?”

“He’s already got a half-sister but I don’t know if she’s telepathic.”

“So there’re two of them!” Gasped Emma.

Iona nodded guiltily.

“Right! Then I definitely want your child.”

“For you or for America?”
Emma gulped again. Even the briefest nuance of a thought could not slip by.

“It’s no good Emma. That’s what drove me away from Britain. They always think you’ll automatically work for them but I can’t allow myself to be a nationalist. If my gift is to be used by anybody then everybody must use it. Everybody on the planet that is. There’s just too much evil about for it to be otherwise.”

“But we’re not evil, we’re a democracy. You know that.”

“So is Britain but that didn’t stop them. There’s evil and mistrust everywhere.”

Emma’s shoulders slumped as she picked at the burn scab on her wrist.

“You don’t think much of Mankind do you? Do you see us as apes?”

“No. And that argument’s been used before as well.”

“By who?”

“My psychiatrist.”

“But you don’t want to help us.”

“How can I? How can one small girl work for the whole planet? They never just want to use me they always want to abuse me, or rather my powers.”

“And that’s your final word.”

Iona fell silent. She’d been over the same arguments hundreds of times and never come up with a satisfactory answer. Wearily she picked up her crutch and headed for the outhouse. It looked like another night of doubts and confusion. It seemed that whenever she got near to people the same old arguments reared their ugly head. All she wanted was to be left alone, to do things her way and find a way through the black wall.
To move steadily nearer the comfort of the grave and to embrace death with its sweet release. There finally to find Dumb Michael in that great, unknown beyond. There didn’t seem to be much left for her in this world.

The following morning they went into town shopping and the storekeeper mentioned that the sheriff wanted to see Emma. She put Iona off in a bar and drove round to the county office where Pete welcomed her in and started writing notes.

“Some strangers were looking for your cabin.”

“Who?”

“Dunno. They were Brits though. They had Limey accents.”

“What did you tell them?”

“Nothing. I suspected they were something to do with that Iona you’ve got staying. They were sniffing around the bars and stuff but this is a small town and you’re well liked. I don’t think anybody told them anything. They all know you like your privacy and folks around here respect that. They know you’re vulnerable”

“What were these Brits asking about?”

“The bank robbery and that connects you to Iona.”

“Do they know where I live?”

“No but I alerted Jacky. She came to me the other day about your relationship with this girl. She was curious about the bank raid; you know that mental thump thing that knocked us out. I think she suspects Iona. I tackled Iona about the scream but she denies everything.”

All this took a painfully long time with paper and pencil and it was lunchtime before Emma met Iona again.
“It’ll be them- MI6 again.” Sighed Iona. “I’ve been waiting since the bank robbery and the press report. They’ll be watching your place if they think there’s something connecting us.”

“They’ll have to get past Jacky.” Scoffed Emma.

“Not everybody uses cars Emma. These bastards will walk miles across broken glass if it suites them. There must be a hundred trails through the woods and these guys know all about woodcraft. I think it’s best if we part company now.”

A cold lump settled in Emma’s breast at these words and Iona sensed it.

“I’m sorry. It’s for your own safety. Fortunately I’ve got my papers with me. If they find me they’ll go all out to get me dead or alive. They’ve been waiting for their chance for years. The farther I am away from you, the safer you’ll be. Just take me to the bus station. I’ll be able to scan if they’re there.”

Emma cursed silently as she turned into the bus station. She watched Iona buying a ticket and wondered what she could do to make her stay: - at least until she had a child by her. Depression set in as she watched the Seattle bus pick its way onto the highway then she sighed deeply and set off home. She stopped at Jacky’s for a chat and told her about the pursuers.

“What do they want her for? If she’s a criminal they’d only have to tell the immigration authorities and she’d be on the next plane out.”

“There’s more to it than that. Apparently she’s special.”

“Go on.” Pressed Jacky, anticipating Emma’s revelation.

“I can’t say. You wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

“Try me.”
Emma hesitated then decided to let it remain secret. She finished her coffee and clambered into her pickup as Jacky stood on the track silently fuming at having got so near to the truth. When Emma got to her cabin she was stunned and frightened to find that it had been carefully turned over. Iona had been right. What was worse was that there were no tyre tracks so the perpetrators must have arrived and left on foot. A helicopter would have been far too noisy and Jacky would have certainly mentioned it. Afraid to stay alone in the cabin she returned to Jacky’s and spent the night there before calling on Pete the sheriff the following day.

“So they’re still around here then?”

“They must be.” Replied Jacky. “It’d take a day and a night to reach the cabin and back by foot. It’s almost forty miles round trip and it’s rough going in parts. There were no footprints on the track so they must have crossed rough country.”

“Well the obvious place is by the old sawmill. They could go the first ten miles down the river then cut over the ridge. That’s where we’ll start.”

As expected they found recent tyre tracks and footprints at the mill. Somebody had done exactly as Pete had suggested. They had made good time however for it was
obvious they had been and gone. Emma signed to Jacky.

“Iona said they were professionals. What’s that crack regiment they have?”

Jacky turned to Pete and translated.

“The SAS.” Replied Pete. “They’re like our Green Berets. Anyway they’ve gone and so’s our friend. She must know how to look after herself or they’d have caught her long ago.”

“She’s injured for God’s sake!” Snapped Jacky. Where’s she going to run?”

“I suspect she’ll head for Canada. She said she’d have to get a proper entry visa.”

Jacky gaped at Emma as surprise registered on her face.

“What! Is she an illegal?”

Emma nodded and stared guiltily at the floor as Pete stared at her in amazement.

“How did she get to your place then?”

Emma explained everything except the telepathy and Pete fell silent as he considered the problems. ‘The best thing Iona could do was go to earth in Canada.’